


There's Love In Your Eyes

by kingenjolras



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingenjolras/pseuds/kingenjolras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where everyone is supposed to get a tattoo on their body at some point to identify their soulmate, Enjolras has been keeping a secret, and a rally goes horribly wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Love In Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello this is my first fic in this fandom so i'm sorry if someone is ooc or they don't fit a description i'm trying my best. sorry for any writing mistakes or spelling errors or anything i'm the only one i have to reread my fics and 14k is a lot to edit. please feel free to drop a comment and tell me what you think!! pls be nice. thank you for reading i hope you enjoy it ((:

When Marius walks into the The Musain, the meeting is already in full swing. Everyone is separated into their separate groups and working on their projects. Grantaire, Joly, Bahorel and Feuilly are together in the corner, beginning the designs on signs and posters for the rally that's coming up for woman’s reproductive rights. Bossuet, Eponine, and Jehan are working together to create a slogans for them to shout. Eponine is also trying to get a hold of everyone she knows, to get the word out about the rally. Enjolras is talking in whispers to Combeferre and Musichetta about what Grantaire can only assume is the set up of everything they're going to need. Courfeyrac is wondering around and checking on everyone and seeing if they need help. Courfeyrac does this every meeting when he doesn't have a designated thing to do.

“Marius?” Joly asks, being the first to notice his presence. He stands up, subsequently drawing everyone's attention to them. “Are you OK? You're looking pale do you feel OK?”

Marius doesn't say anything, just turns to look at Joly as if he's surprised to see him there. Grantaire also stands up at this uncharacteristic act. Marius is never late to a meeting, let alone non responsive.

“How about you sit down,” Grantaire suggests, walking over to him and pulling out a chair that's nearest to him. He leads him to it, making him sit down. “Do you want a drink?” He's only somewhat kidding.

“I found my soulmate,” Marius says suddenly. Grantaire can feel everyone in the room freeze. This is not a normal reaction to finding your soulmate.

They've all seen what it looks like to find your soulmate. They'd been there when Grantaire brought Bahorel to a meeting for the first time. The way that he and Jehan looked at each other was completely indescribable. It was like they were the only two people in the world for a moment and even Grantaire couldn't deny the connection that they had after they got over their initial staring and exposing of their matching tattoos. They'd been completely inseparable, Jehan planted firmly on Bahorel's lap for the rest of the meeting. Obviously, it hadn't been the same with Marius and his soulmate.

“Finally!” Grantaire says jokingly, smiling at him cautiously and trying to gauge how upset he really is. “We should start the celebration then, huh?”

“She's gone,” he replies, looking up at Grantaire. “I only saw her a few moments and then she was gone. I don't even know her name.”

Grantaire has no idea what to say to that, and he can feel everyone is the room's collective tension. “That, um,” Grantaire struggles for a moment to find words. “That really sucks.”

He wishes he wasn't so bad at stuff like this. Soon Joly is crouching in front of him and talking to him in a hushed and soothing voice. Grantaire stares at the spot on Marius' leg where his tattoo is currently being covered by his tan pants.

He knows what Marius' tattoo is. He knows almost everyone's in the room. It's a small rose, just above his ankle that's a very distinct color of blue that he could never describe to anyone. He's not the first one in the group to find his soulmate. In fact, Eponine, Enjolras, Feuilly, and himself are the only ones who haven't.

Courfeyrac and Combferre have matching penrose triangles, with the word 'forever' on one side, on their left shoulder and right wrist respectively. Jehan has a strange, abstract, face on the back of his right calf muscle matched by the one in between Bahorel's shoulder blades, obviously much to everyone's surprise. And Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta have three black birds with green eyes and grey beaks on all of their left sides under their ribs, which is a bit abnormal. Soulmates tend to have their tattoos in different places on their bodies. But then again, their relationship has never been normal.

Eponine has a small blue heart underneath of her left eye, Feuilly, a very simple outline of an eye in the very middle of the small of his back, and Grantaire, an extremely intricately designed bright red crown with too many jewels to count on the palm of his hand.

It's obvious after about twenty minutes that no one is really getting any work done, since they're all talking to Marius and trying to figure out how to solve his problem. Grantaire watches Enjolras carefully in between talking to Joly and Feuilly quietly about what's happening, because he knows that he'll be getting fed up quite soon. He always hates it when everyone stops working during meetings.

True to Grantaire's guess, not five minutes later, Enjolras has stopped talking to Combeferre and has joined the rest of the mass that has gathered around Marius.

“Marius,” he says, addressing him firmly. “I'm sorry about your soulmate, but the rest of us, including you, have work that we need to be doing.”

Grantaire, along with many others, sighs. Enjolras has never been sensitive when it comes to soulmates. He's said many times that he has no need for a tattoo to tell him who to love.

“Enjolras,” Combeferre says, giving him a look.

“Combeferre” He replies in the same tone. “We have stuff to get done.”

“It's his _soulmate_ Enj.”

“I _know_ that, 'Ferre, thank you, but as I've said three times now, we have things to be doing and I don't have time for everyone to be worrying about Marius' loneliness when we're at a meeting.”

“Enjolras, I know that you're very driven, but you're being so insensitive to him. It's his soulmate, which I've said two times now. Could you show some compassion for once?” It's unlike Combeferre to argue with Enjolras, (that job is generally reserved for Grantaire) but when he does it never ends well, and its almost always because Enjolras is being an asshole about something.

Enjolras looks offended at that and his neck twitches slightly. “I have plenty of compassion. I have compassion for the cause that we're supposed to be rallying for next week and if we don't get this stuff done we won't be able to do that. I'm genuinely sorry, Marius, that you've lost your soulmate, but there are more important things to be focusing on.”

Grantaire can't help but roll his eyes a little bit. They've all heard Enjolras' speech about the flawed system of soulmates and how the tattoos are non-consensual and how he never wants to know who his is.

“Well, Enjolras,” Marius replies, obviously fed up, “Perhaps if you could find your soulmate you could understand what it feels like to love someone so deeply without even knowing them.”

“Even if I did meet my soulmate, I wouldn't let them distract me from what's really important,” Enjolras replies heatedly, eyes practically on fire.

“You know absolutely nothing about love,” Marius says, using the same tone of voice as before. “And you never will with an attitude like that.”

“I know plenty of love,” Enjolras takes a deep breath, also taking a step backwards and gritting his teeth. “I don't see how it's any of your business, Marius, whether or not I have found my soulmate.”

Marius tilts his head to the side slightly, eyes wide and confused. He looks like he's trying to figure out what the say next. Marius has always had a knack for reading Enjolras like no one else can and Grantaire secretly envies him for it. “Really?” He asks, quietly.

Enjolras stares at him, expression stony and composed, like it gets when he's losing an argument. Grantaire has to stop himself from gasping as he realizes just exactly what's happening. He feels suddenly like he's going to fall over.

Marius' expression changes so suddenly that Grantaire almost misses it.

“Enjolras, have you found your soulmate?” Marius asks, voice full of wonder and surprise yet still clearly baiting him, and Grantaire takes a deep breath. This cannot end well.

Grantaire half expects an annoyed reaction or some sort of explanation that he's already given about how he doesn't need a soulmate. Instead, Enjolras' entire body goes tense for a moment, and he recoils every so slightly. Grantaire's eyes widen. Everyone else freezes.

“Marius-” Enjolras starts, stepping forward again. “Don't.”

The room is tense and everyone is staring at the two, who are staring at each other. Grantaire knows where this is heading, but he still prays that perhaps he's reading Enjolras all wrong.

“No fucking way,” Courfeyrac is the first to break the silence.“Oh my god,” Courfeyrac says, causing Combeferre to shush him pointedly. “You can't tell me you aren't shocked right now!” Combeferre gives him a looks, effectively shutting him up, although he seems to be in the same state of shock as everyone else.

“You have!” Marius nearly shouts. Everyone in the room can tell that Enjolras is trying to cover it up by now. “Enjolras! Why wouldn't you tell us.”

Enjolras closes his eyes exasperatedly as near everyone in the cafe cheers loudly, gathering around him. Grantaire is frozen in place. He knew that he and Enjolras were never destined to be together. He's known since they met. Of course Enjolras had seen his tattoo, so they weren't soulmates. But hearing it out loud is so much worse, and his chest aches slightly with the news. He'd always a very small amount of hope that they could be together anyways, although that was stupid of him, as he's now seeing.

“ _This_ is exactly why,” He replies to Marius, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“So when do we get to meet the lucky lady?” Bahorel asks, slinging an arm around Grantaire's shoulders that Grantaire is so thankful for.

“It's not a lady,” Enjolras says bluntly. “And _never_ since I'm not involved with him.”

The celebration is cut short by this information and Grantaire's sure he's going to begin aging prematurely if this doesn't stop.

“What do you mean?” Jehan asks confusedly, voicing everyone's thoughts while also looking at Bahorel like he can't even imagine a life without him in it.

“Exactly what I said. We are not intimate. We are not in love. We are not anything. There's no reason for me to try and explain this to you.”

“What?!” Courfeyrac cries, clearly outraged and clinging to Combeferre's shirt sleeve. “Why on earth-”

“I don't wish to discuss it,” Enjolras says, a kind of finality in his voice that doesn't leave any room for questions or debating. “Let's get back to work. We have a lot of things to get done.”

This time no one argues with him.

Grantaire hardly gets anything done after the small spectacle, quickly getting lost in his thoughts about who on earth Enjolras' soulmate could be.

He thought that it would be different than this, finding out that Enjolras found his soulmate. He's been imagining it for years. Enjolras walking into a meeting with a beautiful person with a nice smile who's just a opinionated and strong willed as him. Enjolras making an announcement that someone has managed to steal his heart and change his mind. He imagined the heartbreak he would feel, but how it wouldn't really surprise at all because honestly, it would be some cruel trick of nature if he was Enjolras' soulmate. Enjolras is a leader. He's practically the sun and Grantaire is just another one of his followers. He's a poor, drunkard of an art student. For Enjolras to be stuck with him would be a cruel trick of nature.

He sighs. He doesn't feel nearly as heart broken as he thought he would, after being in love with Enjolras for so long. The fact that Enjolras is apparently not talking to his soulmate is helping, along with the fact that he's not drunk for once. He'd began to sober up for meetings a few months ago, after a particularly nasty fight with Enjolras in which he had said some things about Grantaire's drinking and Grantaire had said something he never would've even thought of saying while sober or non angry. One long talk with Jehan later, he'd decided to cut back intensely on his alcohol consumption.

“Grantaire?” Joly asks him, having appeared from seemingly nowhere. “You feeling OK?” He gives him a sympathetic look, placing a hand on his shoulder gently. Unfortunately, everyone but Enjolras it seemed, knew that Grantaire was in love with him.

“Yes, I'm fine. Just thinking too much,” he replies, sighing and running a hand through his hair, effectively knocking Joly's hand off of his shoulder. “Do you think we know whoever it is?”

“I doubt it. Although, none of his know what Enjolras' tattoo is.” Joly looks over to where Enjolras and Marius are talking. “Weird isn't it. You would think that Courf' or 'Ferre would at least have an idea, but apparently, he keeps it to himself entirely.”

“I guess it makes sense. That way no one knows if he's found his soulmate but him. Seems like it's working.”

“I suppose so.” Joly shrugs a bit. “Do you think you'll ever find yours?”

Grantaire turns a bit to look at Enjolras. His heart aches as he replies without looking back at Joly. “God I hope not.”

__

 

The hunt for Marius' soulmate continues for the week leading up to the rally. Everyone begins asking their friends outside of the group about it and looking at the necks of everyone they see with long blonde hair. They also begin paying a bit more attention to Enjolras, trying to see if anyone can figure out just exactly who his soulmate is.

“What does it feel like?” Grantaire asks Courfeyrac one day, while they're sitting at a table with Enjolras and Jehan. They've all gathered for an unofficial meeting, which means they're all eating together and vaguely discussing rally related things. “Meeting your soulmate I mean.”

Courfeyrac gives him a strange look. “Really? You've never seemed the type to care about soulmates.”

“Everyone gets curious,” Grantaire says with a grin, glancing over at Enjolras. In all honesty though, he just wants to know what signs he should look for when he does meet his someone. If he ever does. He notices that Enjolras looks mildly uncomfortable across the table from him and takes a moment to wonder why before Courfeyrac starts talking.

“When you look at them for the first time, it's like there's nothing else in the world that matters. It's like the only thing in the world is their eyes and the only thing you can focus on is how amazing they look to you. And your heart beat picks up every time they're around too. It's like you can't stand to be apart from them once you've been near them,” He smiles, getting a far off look in his eyes. “When I met 'ferre, I thought I was having some sort of fit. When I looked into his eyes I couldn't move, or make any noise. I was frozen, just staring into his eyes. I knew, before I even saw his tattoo that he was the one. My chest was so warm and felt so full of love. It felt like I was finding a home for all of the love I'd saved up in my life. It was so intense, but so worth it.” He looks over to where Combeferre is standing, talking to Joly.

Jehan nods in agreement. “It's the most intense thing I've ever felt in my life,” he looks over at Bahorel, who's drinking his second bottle now. “It was like I could never be a part from him or I wouldn't be myself anymore. I wouldn't be whole.”

“So it's like falling in regular love, but with more kick,” Grantaire says, taking a drink from his bottle slowly. He's mildly caught up in the memory of the first time he'd met Enjolras. The electricity he'd felt when he'd touched Enjolras' hand, and the way he'd felt as he couldn't move when their eyes had met. He knows that of course hes not Enjolras' mystery soulmate, since he figures Enjolras would've had the common courtesy to let him know about something so life changing.

“And how would you know about being in love?” Enjolras asks, raising his eyebrows with a slight smile that makes Grantaire's knees weak.

_If only you knew_. He takes another drink, turning to look at him. “Well now, Apollo,” he says, waving his bottle through the air slightly. “Why do you assume that I'm not in love at this very moment!” He grins. “I mean, you've been hiding a soulmate for God knows how long.” He takes a swig, looking at his bottle with a faux loving look. “Perhaps I've found myself a true love!” Jehan giggles at him, giving him a look and saying, “Ah at last, the bottom of the bottle! My final resting place is undoubtedly with thee!” while pretending to swoon. Courfeyrac and Grantaire laugh, looking at each other for a moment.

Enjolras however, does not find it funny at all, much like any joke that Grantaire makes about alcohol. “Alcoholism doesn't count as being in love,” Enjolras says flatly, standing from the table abruptly and walking away.

Grantaire is stunned, shrinking back into the booth slightly. He could almost laugh with how surprised he is by the comment. He's never seen Enjolras change emotions that quickly. “That was...” he trails off, unsure of what to say to that. He feels like he's been punched in the gut.

“Uncalled for,” Jehan finishes for him, pulling his eyebrows together slightly. “Completely unnecessary.” He begins to stand, as if he's going to go and talk to him about it.

“Don't worry about it, Jehan,” Grantaire says softly, reaching over to put a hand on his.

“But he-”

Grantaire shakes his head gently. “He's got a point, doesn't he?”

“But Grantaire you're trying to stop-”

“He doesn't know that Courf'.”

Both Jehan and Courfeyrac sigh, but drop the subject. Grantaire glances around to try and find Enjolras. He sees him sitting with Combeferre, their heads almost pressed together as they talk. He would be jealous if he wasn't aware of how absolutely head over heels Combeferre was for Courfeyrac.

“Right,” Grantaire says, grabbing his jacket. He suddenly feels a bit sick with the realization of how in love he is with Enjolras. “I'll be on my way home now, I think. I'm exhausted.” He quickly downs the rest of his drink with a bit of difficulty seeing as he had almost half of it left, setting the bottle back on the table once he's done. Some spiteful part of his brain hopes that Enjolras saw him do it, but he knows Enjolras doesn't care about him enough to watch what he's doing.

“You're sure? We haven't even been here more than an hour,” Jehan points out, eyeing the now empty bottle on the table with an uncertain look.

“I'm not in the mood to be around people anymore,” he replies with a shrug. He doesn't mention that Enjolras' comment had hit him harder than he was letting on, or that his heartbreak was catching up with him. Or that he can't stop thinking about when he first met Enjolras and thought for a moment that they were soulmates and the disappointment that he felt when he held out his hand for handshake and Enjolras had not said anything about his tattoo. At least he's not lying.

“You don't want someone to walk you home?” Courfeyrac asks, standing up as if offering.

Grantaire shakes his head as he grabs his jacket. He's not in the mood for anyone to try and talk to him on the way home, and as much as he loves Courfeyrac he knows that's exactly what he would do. And so would Jehan. “That's alright. I'd rather be alone right now.”

They both nod understandingly.

He wonders over to Bahorel, who's talking to Musichetta loudly, and tells him that he's heading home. They always have made sure to let each other know when they're walking home so that they can call each other and make sure the other got home OK. Bahorel just nods and smiles at him before continuing whatever story Grantaire had interrupted.

As he's leaving, he pulls out his pack of cigarettes and takes one out, placing it between his lips and searching for his lighter as he begins his walk home. He needs to clear his head and although he doesn't smoke often, cigarettes often help him think clearly, no matter what Joly tells him about dizziness and nicotine headaches.

He's startled by a call of his name from behind him before he can even light his cigarette. He turns around, eyebrows raised. He's even more surprised to find Enjolras walking towards him in a hurry.

“Grantaire,” he says as soon as he gets close. Grantaire's heart speeds up and he feels suddenly warm as Enjolras puts a hand on his arm. “Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah,” Grantaire says, trying not to trip over his own words. He can feel the alcohol going to his head, but not in any way that he can't handle. He hopes he's not going to get another lecture about drinking. He's not sure if he can handle it right now. “I'm just walking home.”

“So soon?” Enjolras asks, letting go of his arm. Grantaire begins walking again, lighting his cigarette as he walks to try and distract him from the effect that Enjolras always has on him.

“I'm not really feeling like being around people anymore,” he respondes, breathing out smoke. It's colder outside than he had expected. Its beginning to get cold at night again and Grantaire usually loves this kind of weather, but he can't seem to bring himself to enjoy it lately. It's only been a few days since the news of Enjolras' soulmate had been revealed and it's effecting Grantaire more and more everyday.

“Does it have anything to do with what I said earlier?” Enjolras asks as if he already knows the answer.

Grantaire simply sighs, unable to think of anything witty to say in response. He takes a drag on his cigarette instead.

“I'm sorry, R,” he says, “What I said was completely uncalled for and out of frustration more than anything. That's no excuse, I know, but I'm still sorry none the less. I know that you've been trying to cut back and I commend you for it. It must be very difficult for you.”

Grantaire doesn't say anything for a moment, trying to gauge how sincere Enjolras' apology really is. It sounds to him like he wasn't put up to it by anyone, and well, Grantaire wouldn't really care either way. His chest is warmed by Enjolras' words anyways.

“It could be worse,” Grantaire replies, taking another drag of his cigarette while they wait to cross the street and deciding to change the topic. He's not sure how to responde to Enjolras' apology without addressing his drinking and he's not ready to have that conversation just yet. “I could've found my soulmate and wanted nothing to do with them.” He doesn't mean for it to slip out, but he's had a few drinks and it gets hard for him to control himself after a certain point. He often says the first thing that comes to his mind.

Instead of becoming tense and annoyed like Grantaire expects, Enjolras' shoulders sag a little bit, as if Grantaire has put some great weight on them.

“It's really not like that,” Enjolras says, voice sounding strained. “But I don't want to talk about it.”

Grantaire, in an act of slightly tipsy bravery, he takes Enjolras' hand in his gently, causing him to look at him, shocked. Grantaire feels like he's home as soon as their hands touch, and an incredible warm feeling floods his entire body as he looks at Enjolras. He has to remind himself that Enjolras is _not_ his soulmate, and these feelings are completely irrational.

He has to concentrate hard on speaking so that he doesn't ruin what he's trying to say. “I'm sorry, Apollo. It must be horrible, whatever it is,” he says, squeezing his hand for a moment before dropping it and beginning to walk across the street.

Enjolras seems shocked, not following him for a moment, before apparently gathering himself.

“Thank you,” he says, when he catches up with him. “That-” He pauses, as if looking for the right thing to say. “That means a lot to me R.”

Grantaire is once again struck by how completely unreal Enjolras looks in the dim streetlight. His hair is pulled back messily with an elastic, with a few pieces sticking up and out ridiculously, and a few framing him face perfectly. His scarf is messily draped around his neck in a way that Jehan would scowl at and his jacket isn't straight on his body. He's never looked more beautiful than he does right now. Grantaire ends up simply nodding, unable to think of anything to say that isn't _I love you_ , or _I want to be your soulmate_.

“I should head back now,” Enjolras says, rubbing the back of his neck in a new gesture that Grantaire has never seen before. He makes a mental note of it. “I told Marius I would be back.”

Grantaire nods again, although he knows that Enjolras is lying. His head is tipped downward and his cheeks are very slightly red. Grantaire knows that those things only happen when he's lying. He decides to ignore it. “Be careful getting back,” he warns, taking another drag from his cigarette. “It's sketchy around here, especially for people as pretty as yourself.” He winks, feeling a bit more like himself as he gets used to Enjolras being so close to him.

To his great surprise, he sees Enjolras' checks turn even more slightly pink.

“Then I suppose you'd better be just as careful,” he replies, shocking Grantaire so much he almost drops his cigarette.

He blinks stupidly at the back of Enjolras' head as he walks away, and by the time he's found his words again, Enjolras has already crossed the street.

Grantaire sighs. For a moment, he wishes that he could kiss Enjolras whenever he wants, but the moment passes quickly and he spends the rest of his walk home filled with both warmth and anxiety. He's never been more confused by Enjolras.

__

Grantaire arrives with Bahorel at 7am at the rally on Saturday to begin preparing everything. He and Bahorel are carrying armfuls of posters and banners that Grantaire has been putting the finishing touches on all night. Of course Enjolras and Combeferre are already there, unloading things from the back of a van. He can already see a few police men wondering around already.

“It's gonna be a long day,” he says to Bahorel, sighing as they reach the designated area.

Enjolras is already ordering people around, wearing his favorite red jacket and black skinny jeans with knee high boots. His hair is tied back messily as it almost always is and he looks almost ethereal.

“A very long day,” he sighs to himself, taking a deep breath.

Grantaire's prediction reigns true, as halfway through the rally, right after Enjolras' speech which had gathered the almost two hundred people they'd collected for the rally really close together, a large group of people begins to appear, and they have nothing but bad things to say to the peacefully protesting group. It's a group of old and rowdy men, drinking beer and pretending to be good people, who start everything.

Once the first punch is thrown, Grantaire knows that he whole thing is going to go up in flames. He sees it being thrown, Bahorel throwing a punch at a rowdy man outside of the group, throwing slurs left and right and waving his beer around. The man of course, swings back, and if there's anything that Bahorel loves, it's a fight. After that, everything goes to hell and before he knows it, there are people screaming and police are trying to gather everyone together. He's trying to make his way out of the crowd and to safety when something hits his arm with such a strong force he stumbles a little. He immediately grabs his arm, hissing when it hurts and he feels blood pouring from whatever wound was inflicted. When he thinks about it later, he realizes that some people had brought knives and he was an unfortunate victim of a stabbing. He stumbles a little, feeling disoriented. Suddenly, someone grabs his arm. He turns to find Bahorel beginning to drag him away. He lets himself be lead away.

“Where are the rest?” He yells, looking around while keeping his hand on his arm to try and stop the bleeding. “What happened to that guy you punched?”

“No idea.” Bahorel yells back. “What the fuck happened to you?”

“No idea,” Grantaire yells, laughing manically.

They're almost out of the crowd when Grantaire sees Enjolras, being pushed to the ground by a police officer. His chest automatically gets tight and anxiety spikes through him without warning. He can't think of anything in that moment but protecting Enjolras.

“Enjolras!” Grantaire yells, shoving through the crowd and trying to get to him. He shoves Bahorel off of him, but he follows. He prays that Enjolras doesn't get arrested before he can get to him. Eventually, he reaches him, helping him to his feet quickly. “Are you OK?” He looks around for the police officer that he had seen earlier and sees no sign of him.

Enjolras doesn't reply for a moment, eyes locking with Grantaire's as they're being pushed and shoved by the crowd around them. Grantaire feels his heart speed up, chest feeling warm like it always does when he looks directly into Enjolras' eyes.

“Yes, Grantaire,” He finally says. “Thank you.”

Grantaire nods, smiling faintly, as if they're not in the middle of the biggest riot they've ever accidentally started. He sees Enjolras' eyes widen as he sees the blood that's covering him by now. Before Grantaire can say anything, there's a wave of people that rush into them, pushing them away from each other. Grantaire is having trouble focusing and as someone shoves him roughly to the side, he looses his balance and falls to the ground. He feels people's feet hitting him as they run past and over him for a few moments before Bahorel can manage to get him back on his feet. He's glad that Bahorel is strong enough to not be moved by the crowd unless he wants to be.

“Where is Enjolras?” He asks as they beginning running towards somewhere that isn't the huge crowd. Grantaire is having a very hard time keeping himself upright for some reason that he can't really figure out.

“He went the other way with the crowd. He's on his feet though I saw him moving.” Bahorel calls back as they finally get free from the crowd, taking a back alley that they both know empties out a few blocks from the Musain.

“God I hope he's OK,” Grantaire says, suddenly becoming very aware of the fact that he's been stabbed and he's losing blood. He feels very dizzy and stops running, kneeling over. He feels like he's going to vomit. He coughs a few times, but nothing happens. He clutches his arm, attempting to stop the bleeding again. He looks at his arm, analyzing the huge gash there for a moment before he looks back up to tell Bahorel.

“Fuck, Bahorel,” He calls, looking up to see that he's already running back towards him. “I've been stabbed.”

“I know you dipshit,” he replies, kneeling down in front of him. “More of a slice innit? Do you need help?”

“Yes,” he admits, realizing he's not able to stand up on his own. “I feel very faint.”

“I'm gonna carry you.”

Before Grantaire can begin to protest about the fact that he weighs more than he looks, Bahorel is lifting him bridal style, carrying him easily.

“My prince charming,” Grantaire mocks, acting as if he's trying to kiss Bahorel. A sharp pain in his arm stops his joke and makes him hiss loudly. “I can't believe I got stabbed. This is gonna be such a great story to tell my kids someday.”

By the time that they make it to the Musain, Grantaire has shut his eyes to ward off the headache that he knows is going to come soon. He can hear everyone talking outside of the building.

“Grantaire!” Someone shouts at the top of their lungs, and Grantaire hears too many feet to count running towards him. He opens his eyes just in time to see Enjolras skid to a halt in front of him and Bahorel, who drops him to his feet unceremoniously.

He stumbles a little, relying on Bahorel's hands to keep him steady for a moment. The pain in his shoulder is increasing slowly.

“Someone get Combeferre,” Enjolras shouts behind him, replacing Bahorel, who immediately wraps his arms around a waiting Jehan. Grantaire forgets for a moment, that he's in pain, focusing on where Enjolras' hands are touching his shoulder and the forearm of the arm that hadn't been stabbed. Thankfully, it hadn't been his right arm that had been injured. “We need to get you inside, where are you injured?” He sounds oddly panicked and Grantaire doesn't like it. Enjolras never panics.

“Just a scratch, Apollo,” he replies, trying to lighten the mood. His laugh is cut short however by a hiss of pain when Enjolras brushes his arm.

“Christ,” Enjolras says, stopping them and looking at his arm, where his shirt has been torn slightly. “Grantaire you've been stabbed.”

“More of a slice innit?” Grantaire repeats Bahorel's words from earlier, smiling cunningly. “Gives me character, I think.”

Enjolras sighs, obviously choosing to ignore Grantaire's comment. “When I saw the blood everywhere,” Enjolras says, shaking his head. “When you helped me up,” he clarifies upon seeing Grantaire's confused face. “I thought you'd been punched or something, but then there was so much and you looked so pale and when you got knocked over I thought that...” He trails off, looking in the other direction and shaking his head again.

Grantaire is thoroughly confused by Enjolras' words. He's never seen Enjolras show any outward concern for his well being. He doesn't know what he should be feeling, and his head feels slightly more fuzzy than before. His eyebrows knit slightly and he looks at the back of Enjolras' head quizzically. He'd only been stabbed in the arm, surely Enjolras doesn't care that much about his well being to react like this.

“Enjolras, what-” He's cut off by Enjolras suddenly turning to look him directly in the eyes. He trails off, fighting the urge to pull Enjolras impossibly closer and just hold him there. He doesn't care about his arm, or the rest of his friends who are probably worried by now, or anything else except for the clear look of what Grantaire could only call _affection_ that's in Enjolras' eyes. He's taken aback as he recognizes it, but as he begins to form a question in his head, someone is calling out for them, breaking their moment.

“Enjolras! We need Grantaire inside right now,” Combeferre says, worry clear in his voice. “He's been stabbed for Christ sake.” He at least has the courtesy to go back inside after he says it, giving them a few more moments of peace before they have to go inside. Grantaire notices when he turns around that they're the only ones left outside.

When Grantaire turns back, Enjolras is staring at his own hands on Grantaire's body.

“I'm glad that you're safe, R,” he says, squeezing his right arm gently, before slipping his arm around his waist and leading him towards the Musain.

Grantaire can't think of anything at all to say in response to that.

__

As it turns out, a lot happened during the riot that Grantaire was not aware of.

Apparently, Feuilly has a broken rib that he's not worried about, Marius broke his finger, Musichetta got elbowed in the eye and is now sporting a large bruise, and Eponine had suffered a sprained ankle. Joly and Bossuet managed to escape the throng before things got truly bad and Combeferre had just been lucky enough to make it through the crowd without injury. Courfeyrac, who suffered the second worst injury next to Grantaire's arm, managed to fall hands first onto broken glass. Jehan, who managed to escape with only a headache from a few bashes to the head from flying elbows, is still picking the glass out of Courfeyrac's hand with a pair of tweezers while Grantaire is being bandaged. They've all separated out into different parts of the cafe, talking amongst themselves in groups as they patch each other up. It's not the first time that a rally has gone wrong for them.

The most surprising event was most definitely the discovery of Cosette, Marius' lost soulmate. She's probably the sweetest person he's ever met and he like her immediately. Grantaire is introduced to her while Combeferre examines the gash on his arm and she's got a split lip from accidentally biting down on it while being shoved and dirt all over her jeans and white shirt. His injury had been more of a slice than anything, but it was fairly deep. Combeferre doesn't think that he'll need stitches, but he's going to need to be bandaged up and to drink a lot of water to help with the blood that he's lost.

Thankfully, the first aid kit that Joly carries is serious business, and he's got everything Combeferre needs to bandage him up with no problem.

“So how did you manage to get yourself stabbed then?” Bahorel asks him, setting his drink on the table before walking over to where he's being bandaged. Grantaire is thankful.

“I'm actually not sure,” he says with a laugh. “Just my luck that I get stabbed by accident.”

Bahorel and Jehan, who's sitting close by, both laugh. “Should've been me,” Bahorel says, taking a seat next to Combeferre, who doesn't look up from what he's doing. Grantaire can tell by the tone of his voice that he's not serious, but he still makes a mental note to talk to him later and remind him that none of this is his fault.

“Oh yes, because that would've made everything better,” Courfeyrac replies, giving him an amused yet concerned face.

“Haven't you heard?” Bahorel asks, standing on a chair and pretending to make an announcement as he talks. “Our leader, the brave and fearless Grantaire, was wounded in battle. And us, his servants, have failed him.” He pretends to bury his face in his hands, laughing loudly.

Grantaire grins. This joke had started in the group almost a year ago, after Enjolras had said, 'Why don't you just make Grantaire the leader then,' after a majority had taken his side during one of their arguments. Of course, everyone thought it was hilarious that a) Enjolras considered himself the leader without anyone telling him that he was, and that b) he was so butthurt about being wrong in an argument. Jehan had been the first to react, making a joke about how he knew that the crown tattoo meant something like that, and from there it had grown to something ridiculous.

“Anything to protect our fearless and selfless leader!” Jehan says, throwing a hand in the air dramatically. “For he is a god and we are but mere mortals, trembling before his almighty power.” Bahorel presses a kiss to Jehan's kiss as he passes, walking across the room.

Even Combeferre is laughing by now, shaking his head a little.

“To keep him from harm we will do anything!” Bahorel chimes in, grinning like a maniac. He's standing near Feuilly and Eponine now, making them smile. “To save him from trouble and pain!”

“We must stop his suffering!” Joly cries from across the room where he's looking over Enjolras for signs of damage other and a few bruises and scrapes. Grantaire hears Cosette's laugh finally join theirs. It's a soft and high pitched giggle that fits her perfectly. He looks over towards Enjolras to gauge his reaction to the joke, surprised to find him smiling.

“And release him from evil!” Musichetta cries back from next to him, laughing.

The room is filled with laughter in a matter of moments, but Grantaire is frozen, eyes locked right underneath of where Enjolras' arm meets his shoulder. He'd taken his shirt off, probably assuming that no one was paying attention to him. Right underneath of his arm pit is his tattoo. It's somewhat large, and the brightest color he's ever seen apart from his own crown. His body is suddenly alive with electricity. It's only there for a moment before Enjolras recovers himself with the shirt that Feuilly had given him earlier when they entered and Enjolras had realized that his shirt was ripped almost in half at that point.

He stands up suddenly, causing Combeferre to make a small noise of protest and give him a concerned glance. All at once, the laughter in the room stops as Grantaire walks quickly over to where Enjolras is sitting with Joly, talking.

He stops just short of where Enjolras is, causing him to look up, startled.

“Show me your tattoo,” Grantaire says, face as blank as he feels inside. He's praying that he's wrong. That he's just trying to trick himself into something that's not there, but he has a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“What?” Enjolras says, shifting his eyes around for a moment. Dread begins to pool in Grantaire's stomach.“Why?”

“Enjolras.” Everyone is staring at them. Grantaire feels like he can't move anything but his mouth and his voice is coming out as barely a whisper. His whole body is numb, remembering the things that Enjolras has been saying for the years that he's known him. About soulmates. About how pointless they are. Everything he's ever said about his drinking. He feels sick. “Please.”

“What's this about?” Combeferre asks, looking at Enjolras as he walks over towards them.

Grantaire's eyes lock with Enjolras' and he already knows that he's right just by the terror that he can see in his eyes. He can feel Enjolras' panic and he hates it. He wishes he could hate Enjolras in that moment.

Enjolras stares at Grantaire for a few more moments before turning away and closing his eyes. He grits his teeth, sighing and reaching down to the hem of his shirt and lifting it. There's a collective gasp as it's revealed that Grantaire's fears are confirmed. It's his crown. The design is the same, the color is the same, and even the small 'Liberté, égalité, fraternité' is at the base.

“Grantaire I-” Enjolras begins to say as he drops his shirt back down.

“Don't. You. Dare.” Grantaire spits at him, feeling anger rise up inside of him, covering his insecurity and self-hatred in a moment of heat and confusion. ' _Even if I had a soulmate, I wouldn't let them distract me from things that are actually important.'_ He tries to take a deep breath but it does absolutely nothing.

“Grantaire please, just listen to me.” Enjolras stands up and Grantaire steps back immediately. Memories are flooding into his head without his permission. He remembers every time he's ever looked into Enjolras' eyes and felt everything in the world. He remembers touching Enjolras' hand. Enjolras' reaction to him being hurt at the rally. Everything suddenly makes sense and he hates it. He hates that he's spent two years wondering and waiting and hating himself and thinking that he was crazy when he was right the whole time. _'Why are you even here, Grantaire. I here alcoholics anonymous is just down the street.'_

“Two years!” He yells, feeling like he's going to explode. “Two fucking years you've known me and you couldn't even find the time to tell me that I'm so repulsive you would rather make me wait the rest of my life and die alone waiting than even talk to me about this?” He feels like it's not even him yelling. He's never been this mad at anyone but himself in his life and his chest hurts.“You would rather me die, sad and alone than just tell me that you don't like me. Is the thought of me so disgusting that you couldn't even tell me? You couldn't even go through someone else?” Grantaire spits, anger flowing from his gut out of his lips.

“Grantaire, no please,” Enjolras steps forward, trying to touch him, and he feels disgusted. “it was never anything like that I swea-”

Enjolras doesn't get to finish his sentence because Grantaire spits directly in his face, pulling his arm away from where Enjolras tried to grab it. Enjolras recoils instantly, closing his eyes and looking shocked and disoriented. He feels the collective gasp that goes around the room and his cheeks flush with the sudden uncontrollable rage that fills him entirely. _'Maybe that's why you haven't found your soulmate. You're always drunk'_

“Grantaire!” Joly exclaims in surprise, moving out towards him in what Grantaire assumes is going to be an attempt to calm him down.

“Fuck you,” He says, wiping his mouth and staring at Enjolras. He's too sober to deal with this. “Fuck you Enjolras you fucking asshole.” He wants to hit something more badly than he's ever wanted to hit something in his life. He feels someone touch his arm and he moves away from the touch immediately, turning towards Joly and hissing, “Do _not_ touch me.” Joly backs away instantly, eyes wide at Grantaire's malice. He turns back towards Enjolras, breathing heavily. “I can't believe you would do this! How could you do something like this?,” He begins moving closer to him, causing Bahorel and Combeferre to move as if they're going to grab him. He stops walking a few feet away from him. “After preaching so much bullshit about soulmates and how you don't need one, I thought surely you might consider the other side of the argument at least once. What about me, Enjolras? Did you even consider that I just might want to know who I was born to be with?” He laughs in disbelief, voice cracking. He knows he must sound as crazy as he feels. “Who my _soul_ is bound to?” He doesn't even feel real anymore. Literally everything he'd believed for two years is now completely out the window and he can practically feel himself losing his sanity the longer he talks.

“Do you want to know something?” He's breathing heavily and his tone is patronizing. He's practically delirious with rage. “I've been in love with you for so long I can't remember not being in love with you.”

Enjolras turns sharply to look at him as he finally pulls himself together enough to wipe his face carefully. He looks devastated and normally Grantaire would feel bad, but in this moment he can't get past the rage that's coursing through his entire body.

“R-” Bahorel tries to talk to him, but ignores him entirely, all of his attention focused on Enjolras.

“And for what?” Grantaire asks, laughing crazily and look around at everyone else in the room. He can tell that everyone is on edge and for some reason that just fuels him even more. Combeferre and Bahorel are posed as if their ready to jump in at any moment. “For you to be so ashamed to be paired with me that you couldn't even tell me?”

“Grantaire, you're not being reasona-”

“Don't you dare tell me about reasonable!” Grantaire practically roars, stepping towards him and getting so close to him that their noses are almost touching. He hears people move towards him but no one touches him. He can't believe Enjolras would pull the rationality card, as if he's been completely reasonable about this whole thing. He can't tell what it is that's swimming in Enjolras' eyes, but he doesn't feel like analyzing it while he's filled with so much rage. “Don't you fucking dare,” He spits, feeling the strongest urge to punch him he's ever had. He clenches his fist tightly, trying his hardest to not punch him right in the face. “You know what's unreasonable?” He hisses, looking directly into Enjolras' eyes. “Not telling your soulmate how much you hate them.”

Without thinking, he grabs Enjolras by the stomach, pushing him back as hard as he can. Immediately after, he's got two pairs of arms around his, pulling him backwards and away from where Enjolras hits the table that was behind him with a loud crack as his head smashes into the edge. Still enraged, with tears now streaming down his face, he roughly shoves Combeferre away from him, effectively freeing one of his arms. Bahorel lets go of him without a fight, knowing that Grantaire won't do anything more if he's left alone. There are people now surrounding Enjolras so that Grantaire can't see him.

“Grantaire!” Enjolras says, his voice sounding slurred and desperate.

Grantaire can't handle being there anymore. He ignores the call of his name, and whatever Bahorel is trying to say to him about his arm. He can't think anymore, and his tears are blurring his vision. His rage is very quickly being replaced with crushing disappointment and sadness. He turns around, quickly leaving the room.

He just barely hears Enjolras say, “I need to talk to him.” before the door closes behind him and he feels the cold night air hit his face.

__

  


“Grantaire!” Enjolras yells, struggling to get up from where he's hit the edge of the table and fallen to the floor. “I need to talk to him.” He can feel hands scrambling to help him up but he doesn't care about anything but the slam of the door he hears shortly after he calls after Grantaire. His chest is aching and he's not seeing things straight be he doesn't care at all. He needs to go after Grantaire. He can't let him walk away with ideas like that in his head.

“Enjolras,” Joly says, stepping in front of him and making him sit down. He automatically makes an attempt to stand back up, but is pushed back down by more than one pair of hands. “Do you know who I am?”

“Joly please, I'm fine,” Enjolras says, voice more pleading than he intended. “I need to talk to him he's got everything all wrong in his head. I can't just let him leave like that.”

“Enjolras, he's not in any mood to talk things out right now. He just pushed you into a table,” He pokes at Enjolras' head, causing him to hiss slightly. “Bahorel has gone to speak with him.”

“But Bahorel doesn't _know_ anything, Joly, please.”

“Enjolras,” Joly says in a tone that isn't to be argued with. “Let me look at your head and your ribs. You could be seriously injured. Then you can go wherever you damn well please.”

Enjolras sighs, nodding and sinking into the chair slightly. He looks around the room, not surprised that they're all staring at him.

“So what the fuck,” Jehan says, breaking the silence. Everyone seems to go back to what they were doing after that, returning to tending to each other's wounds. “You're really his soulmate?”

“I thought that much was obvious by now, Jehan. Or was my tattoo not enough evidence for you?” Enjolras says, not even bothering to bite his tongue anymore. All he wants to is to find Grantaire.

Jehan puts his hands up in a gesture that says he's not going to fight. “Grantaire might've been wrong about your tattoo.”

“He spit in my face,” Enjolras says bluntly, shame filling him. “Do you think he would do that with even an ounce of doubt that I was complete asshole.”

“I guess that's right.” Jehan pulls up a seat across from him. “Why wouldn't you tell him?” His voice is soft and non accusatory, but Enjolras still feels shame continue to fill his entire body

“Is it true?” Enjolras asks, avoiding the question. He has to know if what Grantaire said was true. “That he's loved me for so long?”

Jehan sighs, and the room has gone quiet again. They all exchange looks with each other before Jehan just bites the bullet and respondes.

“Did you really not know?” Jehan asks. There's no ill intent behind his words but they still make Enjolras sick to his stomach. “After all this time? All of the things that he's said to you? About you? You've never once had an inkling of an idea that he loved you with all of himself?”

“But the things that I said to him. The arguments that we had,” Enjolras hisses again as Joly pokes him, having moved on to his ribs and stomach. “I thought he would hate me.”

“What about the times you didn't argue? He felt everything that you did when you looked at each other,” Courfeyrac chimes in from across the room. “Only you had the mercy of an explanation. Grantaire only knew that he would never love someone else like he loved you. He once told me that he hopes he doesn't meet his soulmate because he didn't think that he would love them more than you.”

Enjolras closes his eyes, feeling more stressed in this moment than he thinks he ever has. Of course Grantaire had been feeling the exact same things as him. He'd never considered in depth how harshly that would effect him.

“I'm an idiot,” Enjolras says, mostly to himself. He's once again not surprised when everyone in the room nods. He wonders if Grantaire is crying still, or if he's still angry. He hopes that Bahorel can convince him to calm down at least a little bit. The last thing he wants is for Grantaire to do something stupid. He would never forgive himself if he ended up getting hurt anymore than he's already been.

“OK, stand up,” Joly instructs him, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him as he stands.

Enjolras does as he's told, feeling a bit off balance as he first begins to rise. His head is aching slightly and his chest still hurts but he doesn't know if its from his injury or his worry about Grantaire.

“Do you feel dizzy?” Joly asks, looking directly at him.

“No,” He replies, rolling his eyes.

“Are you feeling at all faint?”

“No.”

“Not feeling like you're off balance?”

“No.”

“Are you lying to me so that I'll let you go gallivanting after Grantaire?”

“Joly honestly, I'm fine.”

“Enjolras, Grantaire pushed you pretty hard and the sound your head made when it hit the table wasn't a noise I particularly like to hear.”

“I've never seen Grantaire so angry,” Jehan says to Courfeyrac at the same time as Enjolras replies to Joly with, “I'm aware of how hard I was pushed.”

“Not with anyone but himself at least,” Courfeyrac responds to Jehan solemnly, making Enjolras' chest hurt. He doesn't understand how Grantaire could justify hating himself in his own head. It's never made any sense to him. “And certainly not sober.”

Enjolras startles slightly as Jehan's phone goes off. The generic ringtone fills the room somewhat ominously until Jehan answers with a slightly strangled, “Hello?”

The room seems to hold a collective breath as they hear only one side of the conversation. Enjolras feels like he's going to explode if he doesn't have confirmation that Grantaire is OK soon.

“Yeah.” Jehan has the look on his face that he always has when he's in distress. “No, no he's fine. … Mhm, yeah …. I told him but … OK I'll let him know …,” He blushes suddenly, like he's surprised by what Bahorel said. “I um,” he stumbles over his words for a second before saying, “I love you too,” He covers his mouth for a second while Bahorel speaks. “OK, bye.”

“He's fine,” Jehan says, speaking directly to Enjolras. “But he doesn't want to talk to anyone. Bahorel can't even get him to open his bedroom door.”

Enjolras sighs, burying his face in his hands and shaking his head. “What the hell have I done.”

__

  


Jehan ends up taking Enjolras home after the phone call, He feels as if someone has stomped on his chest and his head is pounding with ache. The only thing he wants is to talk to Grantaire, and of course that's the one thing he can't do because he's managed to absolutely ruin everything. Tears begin to form in his eyes at the thought of how badly he hurt Grantaire and he wants to curl up into a ball and never move again because he never wanted this to happen. Obviously Grantaire doesn't want him right now, and maybe not at all, but Enjolras will be damned if he lets Grantaire live the rest of his life believing the kind of things that he was accusing Enjolras of believing about him. He would rather die than let Grantaire believe that he think he's disgusting, let alone that he _hates_ him, because the truth of the matter is that Enjolras _loves_ Grantaire.

He's never loved anything like he loves Grantaire, and although he's done a horrible job at displaying his affections, he cares more deeply about him than anything. He feels like half of him is missing, and he can barely handle how much he's hurt him. He knows that it's probably mostly the bond that caused him to fall in love, but he no longer cares like he used to, now that he's seen the consequences of his stupid decision. He can feels Grantaire's sadness inside of his bones. He may even be imagining it, but he swears that it's a separate pain than his, filling his entire body with an inexplicable melancholy.

He has no idea how he's even going to begin to make this right, after all of the damage that he's caused. He hates himself for being so stupid and insensitive to Grantaire's feelings. Grantaire's words echo in his head, ' _Fuck you Enjolras you fucking asshole.'_ Enjolras can still feel the spit hit his face, and his urge to cry nearly taking his over as he watch Grantaire scream and fall apart in front of his very eyes. In all of the time that they've known each other, Grantaire has only called him by his name once while addressing him. He clenches his jaw, screwing his eyes shut to try and keep his tears at bay. He doesn't want to cry in front of Jehan, but by the time they reach his apartment that he shares with Courfeyrac, he's barely holding himself together.

He can't handle the pressure that's building in his chest and his sadness seems to be crushing everything inside of him. He feels faint as he gets out of the car, causing Jehan to put an arm around his waist, supporting him. He feels numb as Jehan leads him inside as gently as he can. He unlocks the door with a small amount of difficulty, but as soon as it shuts behind him, he collapses against it, unable to hold in his sobs any longer. He rarely ever cries. He's always been good at holding in his emotions, or not having any strong enough to cause a physical reaction. But right now, there's nothing else he can do but cry.

He shakes with the force of his sobs, wrapping his arms around himself to try and stop the trembling. He longs for Grantaire, wanting only to touch him, or at least to look into his eyes and feel warm for a moment.

Jehan is trying to talk to him, he knows it, but he can't hear what he's saying over the noise in his head and his own sobs. He's suddenly stuck in the memory of when he first met Grantaire, causing him to cry even harder. He remembers when Grantaire had held out his hand for him to shake and his heart stopping for the first time when he noticed his tattoo. He remembers grabbing the hand as well, the most intense feeling of not wanting to let go practically over powering him. He had felt like he was meant to be in that spot and no where else. He had also been so thankful that his tattoo was easily hid because he didn't want a big spectacle right then and there in front of all of his friends. He hadn't wanted anyone to know.

He remembers also, the first time they had fought; over soulmates, of all things. He had recited his speech on soulmates and the flawed systems and told Grantaire that he didn't need a soulmate to be happy and that they were simply distractions.

He sobs loudly at the memories. If he could go back now, he would do anything to avoid the complete mess and misunderstanding he's caused. He would declare right then and there that Grantaire was _his_ and only his to the entire world. He would admit that he was completely wrong and that he did need his soulmate. He needs Grantaire right now, as he sobs. He feels like he's missing something and Grantaire is _his._ His soulmate, his world, his light. He's never felt emotions as deep as the one's he's feeling right now and he fears that their bond is breaking. He shoves the thought from his mind, knowing that he would be able to tell exactly the moment when that happened, due to the pain of his tattoo being suddenly gone from his skin.

He buries his face in his hands, attempting to pull himself together. He wants to be able to at least tell Jehan to leave because he needs to be alone with his thoughts. He also hates when people see him cry, which is another reason he almost never does it. He hates seeming so weak and fragile around people, and although he trusts Jehan just like anyone in his friend group, he is no exception.

He takes a deep breath, apparently what Jehan has been telling him to do this whole time because he hears him say, “Good, just keep doing that.” He does as he's told, continuing to take deep breaths and wiping his eyes. He does his best to not think about Grantaire for a moment while he focuses his energy on ignoring the urge to cry. Eventually, his tears begin to slow until he's no longer crying, but he's not sure how long he can hold on to his momentary control.

“I'm sorry,” he apologizes immediately, voice cracking horribly and making him cringe. He hates that Jehan has to deal with him like this. “You shouldn't have to deal with this.”

“Shut up,” Jehan says, putting his hands on Enjolras' shoulders gently and looking him dead in the eyes. “Are you OK?”

Enjolras looks back at him, sighing. “No,” he says truthfully, feeling a headache begin to creep up his neck. He reaches up to take his hair out of the elastic that he's had it tied in for far too long. “I've ruined everything, haven't I?” His voice trembles with his want to cry and the fear that's been filling his heart since Grantaire spit in his face. Fear that he's never going to be able to make things right.

“Oh Enj'.” Jehan pulls him into a hug. Despite the awkward position, Enjolras is grateful. “Grantaire loves you so much.” He pulls away from the hug, eyes sincere.

“How could he love me after this?” Enjolras asks, scowling at the ground at his own stupidity. He feels more tears slip from his eyes before he can even try to blink them back. “After I've put him through all of this.”

“His soul is bound to yours,” He replies, continuing quickly when Enjolras opens his mouth to argue. “But he didn't know that until very recently. And he still loved you. He loved you when you called him an alcoholic and when you told him that he wasn't needed at meetings and when you punched him in the face last winter when he called you all those names when he was drunk. He's loved you for so long, Enj. And now that he knows that you're his soulmate, there's absolutely no way that he doesn't love you anymore. You haven't ruined anything.”

Enjolras isn't sure when he started crying again, but he reaches up to wipe his face after Jehan finishes speaking to find it covered in wetness. He hates himself even more, knowing that he's been hurting Grantaire like this for so long. He wishes he could go back and change everything.

“I never wanted this to happen,” he says, staring at his own knees, which he'd pulled up to his chest while Jehan was talking. “I was going to tell him.”

Jehan nods understandingly, standing up. “I believe you.” He holds a hand out towards him. “Let's at least get you to bed.”

“I love him.” Enjolras tries to run a hand through his hair, getting it caught in the tangles. “I just want to see him.” He takes the hand that's outstretched towards him. Standing up is a challenge but he manages to do it. He also manages to make it upstairs to his bedroom with lots of help from Jehan.

“Tomorrow,” Jehan whispers to him, after he's been stripped down to his boxers and covered in more blankets than he actually needs. “You can see him tomorrow.”

Enjolras nods, exhaustion finally grabbing him.

“I promise.” Jehan kisses his forehead gently as he's falling asleep.

His chest still aches, but the words soothe him enough to allow him to let sleep sleep take him.

__

Grantaire wakes to a pounding on his bedroom, which isn't locked. He groans turning over and grabbing his phone to check the time.

“Go away Bahorel!” He shouts, seeing that it's 12:36. He covers his head with a pillow, remembering yesterday's events. He feels like he should be crying, but he cried so much last night he doesn't think he has any left.

“R, you need to eat something,” Bahorel says in reply.

Grantaire simply rolls his eyes not replying and burying himself further into the blankets. He's not getting out of bed. He's not sure that he'll ever be able to move again. After a few moments, he hears Bahorel sigh distantly and footsteps walking away from his door. He's thankful that Bahorel is non intrusive and won't open his door unless he opens it for him.

His chest hurts and his arms are heavy and he's so sad he doesn't even know what to do with himself. He wants desperately to talk to Enjolras, but at the same time, he never wants to see him again. He's never felt more betrayed in entire life, and he's equal parts angry and horribly sad because he should have figured it out. He should've known that he was Enjolras' soulmate. All of the signs were there, and he'd had too much faith that Enjolras would never do something like to him. And of course, Enjolras probably does not want to talk to him now that he's gone and spit in his face and pushed him into a table. He doesn't think that he's ever been so angry in his life. Not angry enough to completely lose control like that at least.

The more he had thought about it, the more he understood why Enjolras wouldn't want to tell him. He's said it himself multiple times that he's not exactly a catch. He wouldn't want to be his soulmate either. And on top of that, he's probably the worst match in the world for Enjolras. But _still_ he thinks he at least deserved to know that Enjolras hated him.

He has to close his eyes to stop himself from crying again. He's already got a headache, and the last thing he needs is for it to get worse.

He hears multiple sets of feet walking towards his room and he sits up, ready to tell Bahorel and whoever he's brought with him to go and fuck themselves. He's not surprised when the door opens, and Bahorel enters, followed closely by Jehan. They close the door behind them, both looking him over and then looking at each other.

“You need to shower,” Jehan says lightly. “It'll help with your headache.”

Grantaire scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He knows that Jehan is right, but he doesn't have the energy to pull himself from bed.

“And what about everything else,” he asks, sneering slightly because he can't help it. He's in distress and his only defense is the be sarcastic and annoyed.

“That will come later,” he replies with no hesitation. “Now, you're either going to get out of bed and into the shower yourself or me and Bahorel will have no choice but to pick you up and force you into the shower.”

“Bahorel and _I_ ,” he corrects huffily. “And _fine_ I'll shower.” He pushes the blankets off of him with his right arm, careful not to move his left one too much. Despite his efforts, it still hurts. He clenches his teeth to stop himself from making any noise to indicate his pain.

“Be careful about getting your bandage wet, please,” Bahorel says, moving closer to him as if to help him stand. “Combeferre is going to come over later after class and re bandage it, but this one needs to stay on until that happens.”

Grantaire nods, standing up without the help that Bahorel offers him. He puts his arm out to steady himself as he sees stars upon standing up. He closes his eyes to combat his dizziness and after a moment it passes. He's only wearing his boxers and he's sure he looks like hell. He's got a few bruises from where he'd been kicked during his brief time underneath of the crowd at the rally, and there's dried blood still covering some of his arm and his chest. Bahorel had tried his best to clean him up, but Grantaire had been crying and yelling and making things difficult, so there was only so much he could do.

“You good?” Jehan asks, eyebrows raised in concern. “You look like hell.”

“Feel like it too,” Grantaire respondes, wishing that he had something to drink. “But I'm fine.”

It's an obvious lie, but thankfully Jehan doesn't say anything more about it.

“Right,” Bahorel says. “Well, shower, please. We'll be in the kitchen when you're done.”

Grantaire nods, looking over the door to his bathroom like it's personally offended him somehow. He blinks slowly a few times as Jehan and Bahorel leave his room. He hears them talking outside immediately, but he ignores it, instead focusing on grabbing a clean pair of sweatpants. He contemplates grabbing a shirt, but decides against it, not wanting to struggle with trying to put it on with his arm how it is.

He manages to shower with minimal difficulty, keeping his arm away from the spray as best as he can. The water is warm and true to Jehan's word, it does help with his headache and also makes a bit of his ache go away. He has a bit of trouble washing his hair, but he manages to do it without getting his bandage too wet.

By the time he gets out, he does feel better, but his sadness is still heavy in his chest and he can't get the look on Enjolras' face when he'd spit on him out of his head. He'd looked at Grantaire like he was destroying everything that he loved. And maybe he was.

He immediately gets rid of that thought, remembering that Enjolras didn't tell him that they were soulmates for a reason, and it definitely wasn't love.

He gets dressed quickly, trying to shove all thoughts of Enjolras to the back of his mind with much difficulty. He brushes his teeth too, while he's at it, just to get it out of his way. He hears the door to his room open as he's spitting out the remaining toothpaste in his mouth. He opens the door to the bathroom, toweling off his hair as he steps out, expecting to be met with Jehan or Bahorel. What he doesn't expect, is Enjolras, who's staring at him as if he's never seen him before.

His stomach drops to his feet, as does the towel he was using as he drops it in his surprise. Enjolras is staring at him, eyes wide and concerned. Grantaire feels like he's going to be sick.

“Apollo,” he says, voice far more shaky than he intended.

“Grantaire.” Enjolras says his name in a sigh of relief that makes Grantaire's chest warmer than he wants it to be. “You're alright.”

“'Alright' is a relative term here,” he says plainly, blinking back the tears that are forming in his eyes for no reason other than the fact that he loves Enjolras so much in that moment. And he hates it. He hates that Enjolras doesn't love him the way the he loves Enjolras. And he hates himself for being so awful that not even his soulmate can love him. He's not ready to have this conversation with Enjolras yet, and dread fills his stomach because he knows how this is going to end and just wants to avoid the whole thing for just a little longer. He's not ready to deal with this.

He feels like he's been punched in the gut as Enjolras takes a few steps closer to him from where he'd been standing near his bed. _This is happening_ , he thinks, the realization hitting him that Enjolras really is his soulmate. That the exact thing that he's wanted for years is right in front of him, being snatched away because he's such a huge fuck up. He wonders briefly what Enjolras feels when they look into each other's eyes, because it must be nothing like the warmth and safety that he feels.

“We don't have to talk about this,” Grantaire says, eyes burning with unshed tears. He's aware of how much he sounds like a trapped animal, but he doesn't care.

“Yes we do,” Enjolras says immediately. “We absolutely do.”

Grantaire can't stop his tears now. Now that Enjolras has gone and been so sure that they need to settle this. That Grantaire needs to be reminded of why he'll never be loved by anyone.

“I already know,” Grantaire says, voice thick with tears. “OK? I know it was stupid for me to love you and to think you would love me in return. I know that you don't want to be my soulmate. I know that you don't feel anything for me. What's the point in breaking my heart again?” His voice has become soft by the end of his last sentence and he feels like he's no longer breathing. He can't even look up to see Enjolras' eyes because of the tears that are filling his own. He feels pathetic.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras says gently, moving towards him again, this time not stopping until he's close enough to touch him. “Please don't cry.”

Grantaire takes a deep breath, trying to control his tears. Enjolras is obviously avoiding confirming his fears.

“Is your arm OK?” Enjolras asks him suddenly, gaze locked on the bandage covering his wound. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, um, it hurts but um...” He loses his train of thought as Enjolras gets even more into his personal space.

“Can I?” He asks, glancing at Grantaire's face for a moment while lifteing his arm in a motion as if to touch the bandage on his arm. Grantaire simply nods, unable to make his mouth work with Enjolras that close to him.

As soon as Enjolras touches his arm, the pain reduces greatly. And not just the pain from the wound. His chest no longer aches as much and his headache is completely gone from just a barely there brush of fingers over the skin that's not covered with bandage. His body relaxes slightly of its own accord and he sighs in relief before he can stop himself.

“Apollo,” he says slowly, making sure to avoid making eye contact with him so that he can continue to speak.

“R,” he replies, keeping his hand where it is. Grantaire feels like their joined together where Enjolras' fingertips are just barely brushing against his bare skin.

Grantaire can feel his own heartbeat in his chest, steady but fast.

“Why do you hate me?” Grantaire asks, feeling heavy. He just needs an answer to at least one of the questions that have been plaguing his brain.

“I do _not_ hate you, Grantaire,” Enjolras replies firmly and Grantaire can't help the few tears that leak from his eyes.

“Why wouldn't you tell me then?” He feels like he's finally reached a breaking point as he says the words because he's been wondering it for so long and if he doesn't get an answer soon he's going to go crazy. He has to know what he did to make him so horrible that he doesn't deserve a soulmate.

“I need you to promise me that you're not going to interrupt me, please. It's a lot to explain and I need you to listen until the end.”

Grantaire nods in agreement, pressing his lips together to show his silence. He feels anxiety beginning to creep up the back of his neck and into his head. He'll do anything that Enjolras asks of him if it means getting an answer.

“I love you, Grantaire,” Enjolras begins and Grantaire takes in a large breath of air in shock. “I've loved you since the first moment I saw you. And yes, perhaps at first it was just the bond, but now, I've fallen in love with you regardless of it, and I mean that. You're strong, and talented, and so caring and so willing to tell me when I'm wrong. You're so important to Les Amis, and to me. Especially to me,” He emphasis this by looking into Grantaire's eyes. Grantaire is filled with warmth instantly and he almost feels like he's burning. He's not sure if it's form shame or embarrassment about how he'd treated Enjolras. “When I saw your tattoo, I panicked. I didn't want an entire room full of people to witness such a private moment as that. But I made a mistake, and I apologize for it. I let myself think too hard. Think too hard about soulmates and the system and the stigma. I hated the idea that you might only love me because of a tattoo that I've since I was thirteen, and me love you in return for the same reason. So I decided not to tell you, despite everything that I was feeling. I wanted to let you form your own opinions of me. To fall in love with me or to not fall at all without a tattoo influencing your thoughts.” His hands slides down Grantaire's arm, coming to a halt on his hand and sending shivers down his spine. He closes his eyes, unable to believe the words that are being spoken to him, but there's a hope blossoming in his chest that maybe things won't be entirely horrible after this conversation is over. “And when we argued, we were so passionate, and you were so set in proving me wrong, and I wondered if you would change if I told you everything. So I decided to wait a little longer. After that, it began to seem that maybe we were too different. It seemed as if you didn't like me, just as I was afraid of. And every time we argued it was only confirmed in my head that you didn't like me, and I hated that. I hated that you hated me even though we were meant to be soulmates, and my resentment towards the whole thing grew.”

Grantaire shifts slightly towards Enjolras, feeling like he's being covered in Enjolras' words. He can hardly believe them, but the more he talks the more hope fills him. He tangles their hands together in a moment of bravery and wonder. Enjolras squeezes his hand in return, in reassurance. He feels oddly grounded.

“That's why I said the things that I did about soulmates. Because I thought myself doomed to be hated by mine. And my fear and worry consumed me, and I was mean out of frustration and hate for myself, but never for you, R, never. I never hated you. I don't think I could.” He squeezes Grantaire's hand again. “But I was scared for you. You're drinking scared me so much. I didn't want something horrific to happen to you because of it, or for you to, god forbid, die from it. I didn't want to lose you before I had to chance to at least tell you. To have at least an opportunity to love you and to be loved by you also.”

Grantaire can hardly breath as Enjolras steps even closer to him, seemingly unable to stop himself. “I was trying to be nicer to you, to have better conversations and argue less. We were, I think at least, becoming friends when Marius reopened my old wounds and I wasn't sure how to deal. I knew you had to be feeling at least some of the things I was, and I was so worried you would find out before I could have time to tell you. By then, I was noticing the way you looked at me. The way you acted. I knew that there was at least something there. After the rally, I had already decided to tell you as soon as I could. I was so worried about you Grantaire. Waiting for you to show up at the Musain the most painful wait of my life, and when Bahorel showed up, carrying you covered with blood and limp and with your eyes close, _god,_ Grantaire I thought you were dead for a moment, as implausible as that was. I was so relieved that you were OK.”

A few tears have managed to escape Enjolras' eyes, tumbling down his face with a sincerity Grantaire has only ever seen in movies. He feels like he's in one, as he reaches up to wipe away the stray tears using the hand of his good arm. Enjolras closes his eyes at the contact, breathing in deeply.

“I never wanted you to find out the way you did. I was careless and this was never my intention. I was going to tell you, after everything had settled, although I fear I probably would've gotten much of the same reaction. I was going to tell you after everything had settled, no matter what happened. I never predicted this. And I completely understand your reaction, and it was entirely justified, in my eyes. I was horrible for doing this to you and I'll never be able to apologize enough for it. I understand also if you're still angry at me, and don't want to talk to me for a while, but I couldn't let you believe the things that you were saying. The reasons that you had set in your mind were so far from reality. I want you to know that I love you, and I don't find you disgusting, or horrible, or anything else you've managed to call yourself in the time since this whole thing started.”

By the time he's finished, there are tears covering Grantaire's face. He's relieved and disbelieving, and he wants nothing more than to kiss Enjolras. To make this whole thing real for him. He was completely prepared to be rejected, and entirely unprepared to be called beautiful and to be told that he was loved and cared for and for _Enjolras_ of all people to admit that he was in fact in love.

“I'm gonna kiss you,” he blurts out quickly, not waiting for a reply before pressing their lips together somewhat desperately, but not messily.

As soon as he feels Enjolras' lips against his, it's like everything inside of him settles. Instead of fiery warmth that seems consuming and groundbreaking, it feels like he's wrapped inside of a blanket. He feels safe and content, and nothing aches anymore, not even his arm. He realizes suddenly, that they've settled their bond. Enjolras threads a hand through Grantaire's still wet hair, pulling him ever so slightly closer as their mouths move against each other's slowly. He makes a small noise in his throat as he's pulled closer, wrapping his arms around Enjolras' waist tightly.

“I love you,” Grantaire gasps and they pull just their mouths in order to breathe. “I love you so much, you fucking idiot. I've always loved you.”

Enjolras pulls him closer, their chest touching and heads on each other's shoulders as he replies. “I love you too, Grantaire,” he says into his neck, causing Grantaire to squirm and giggle slightly.

He feels incredible as he buries his face into the crook of Enjolras' shoulder and neck, cheek pressed against the soft material of his t-shirt. He feels entirely at peace as he inhales deeply, reveling in the way that Enjolras smells like a home that he could never describe to anyone. He can feel Enjolras' breath tickling his neck gently.

He's about to say something about how it tickles when he catches a movement out of the corner of his eye. He pulls away from Enjolras, startled, to see Bahorel standing in his doorway, obviously taking pictures.

Realizing that he's been caught, he makes a break for it, prompting Grantaire to chase after him, blushing like mad.

“I swear to God Bahorel, if I see that on snapchat, I'm gonna kill you!” He yells, following him down the small hallway and into the kitchen.

“Jehan protect me!” Bahorel calls, prompting Jehan to step in front of him where Grantaire has cornered him in the kitchen.

“Enjolras!” Grantaire cries, grinning when Enjolras appears behind him, slightly out of breath but smiling. “Think we can take them?”

“Definitely,” Enjolras replies, grinning at him.

Grantaire smirks back.

He could definitely get used to this.

  


 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked it!! you can follow me on tumblr - jehangelras - and talk to me about les mis if you want. I hope you liked it (((: 
> 
> There's some gif sets to accompany this story now!! You can find them
> 
>  
> 
> [here](http://jehangelras.tumblr.com/post/139304324990/drink-with-me-too-days-gone-by-marius-tilts-his)  
> and   
> [here](http://drink-with-me-too-days-gone-by.tumblr.com/post/139680493288/click-the-gifs-to-read-them-dont-you-dare)


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